


Sweet Surprise

by kansas_byrne



Series: Dean's Collar [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Evil Sam Winchester, Forced Prostitution, M/M, PWP, Rape, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansas_byrne/pseuds/kansas_byrne
Summary: Sam gets a weird phone call at Stanford from his brother and tracks him down to check on him. He finds his brother in a compromising position, and loses no time in taking advantage of the situation, and his brother.





	Sweet Surprise

Sam pays off the cab and walked the rest of the way to the motel with some amount of trepidation. Dean had sounded weird the last time he’d been able to call, and then Sam hadn’t heard from him in a while. Tracking them down wasn’t too hard, but he wasn’t sure Dad wanted to see him at all. Grapevine said that they’d just killed a werewolf, and if he knows Dad at all, that means he is on a bender now. It is going on midnight, so if Dad was gone, he’d be gone till the sun came up. 

 

Their room is on the back side of the motel, virtually alone, as the motel was only half filled. A man sits outside the room, and Sam’s stomach sinks. He knows a guard when he sees one. The man looks up at him expectantly. He looks down at the man. After a minute, the guy clears his throat. “So… papers and cash?”

 

_ Papers and cash? _ “Uh. I’m looking for a guy about this tall, hangs out with his dad. That’s their car.” He points to the Impala, which, isn’t a good sign for his father not being in.

The guy looks unimpressed. 

“I’m his brother…” he prompts. 

The guy’s face clears, and he stands with a laugh. “Oh that’s great. I knew he’d send someone to take over. It’s been a really busy night, but I think the last one is in there now.” he presses a large manilla envelope stuffed with papers into his hand, and what seems like the kind of deposit bag a store would put cash in to drop off at a bank. He picks up his hat and a jacket off the chair. 

“Tell John that I took my cut already, cause I’m tired of him stiffing me. Took my turn, too, come to that.” he claps Sam on the shoulder “The kid is going to need a lot of cleanup and downtime tonight. Like I said, really busy. I’m glad you’re here, kiddo. That dad of yours will leave him trussed up like that for hours after everything’s over. It isn’t right for him to go out drinking all night.” 

Sam stares at him bewildered, as he folds up his chair and heads off into the night, whistling. He looks at the door. What in the hell is going on?

 

Carefully, Sam opens it and lets himself in. 

 

The first thing that hits him is the smell and the next is the noise. The room smells like stale sweat and bodily fluids, and there’s a rhythmic squelching and grunting that turns him scarlet instantly. He shuts the door and turns to face the room. 

 

The room has one single king sized bed, spread with an extra huge blanket on top of the motel’s supplied one. On it is Dean, being fucked hard by a very large naked man. Dean is bent over a solid looking foam wedge, his arms bound securely behind his back, and his mouth held open with a ring gag. He has a blindfold on, and noise cancelling headphones. The man behind him pushes his cock in to the hilt and smiles at Sam. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he beckons. 

“Don’t be shy,” he pants, “I’m almost done. Take his mouth while I finish. He’s finally mastered the gag reflex.” 

Sam thinks he should be pissed. He should probably be ragingly angry, but he jsut blinks and watches as the man starts fucking his brother again with a slightly unhinged  grin on his face. Sam absently notices that Dean’s been fitted with a harness that has a handle, and the man is pulling on it for more leverage for each savage fuck. Dean’s body hangs limply from it. 

 

Papers. The man outside had said something about papers. He looks into the envelope, finding it thick with medical reports…  _ oh _ . No condoms. The other bag is filled with a lot of money.

 

The shock starts to wear off, and he notices that his underwear is feeling a little too tight. He’s hard and getting harder. Carefully, he comes closer to Dean’s face. The man behind Dean nods encouragingly, and drops the harness so that his body slumps against the wedge again. Clever. His head is right at crotch height for most people. 

 

“Dean,” he says, to no response. Louder, he says closer to his head, “DEAN.” He can’t hear, or he’s too out of it to respond.

 

Sam runs a thumb over Dean’s lips, stretched and distorted by the gag, and then experimentally, slips it into his mouth. He obediently licks it, unable to really suck with his mouth so wide. Sam’s instantly as hard as a rock. He slips his thumb out, and then pushes two fingers in, down his tongue and carefully into his throat, slowly fucking Dean’s mouth with them, and watching as he takes them without complaint, licking almost eagerly at them. He could do this. Dean wouldn’t know. Hell, his father wouldn’t know. The man fucking Dean urges him on. 

“Do it, kid. Fuck his mouth. He loves it. Or, anyway, he can’t stop you. Then you can have his ass. Oh, fuck, yes.” His eyes roll back into his head, and he stills, stopping himself from coming. Sam wonders how long he’s been edging himself, how long Dean’s been tied like this. There are so many papers in that envelope. 

 

Slowly, he unzips his pants, and pushes them down, along with his underwear, pulling his cock out. He wants it. He’s always wanted it. Dean’s mouth has featured in every under the cover fumble since he knew touching himself felt good. He rubs the head of his cock on Dean’s lower lip, and watches as he lifts his head, offering his mouth. Oh god.

 

He feeds it to Dean, inch by inch until his cock is all the way down his throat. It’s so hot, so wet, so  _ good.  _ The guy wasn’t lying, Dean handles it well, not choking,  although the panicked nostril flare tells Sam a lot. He pulls out to let him breathe. Behind Dean, the man has lost his control, fucking into him with abandon, and the movement slides his throat up and down Sam’s cock. He holds onto Dean’s head, closing his eyes and feeling how fucking good it is. He can dimly feel him unable to breathe, panicking, pulling against Sam’s grip. 

 

That’s good too. A part of him wants to make Dean pass out, but he lets him go, pulling out of his mouth and relishing the harsh gasping for air as the man’s eyes roll back into his head, pumping Dean full. 

 

It takes the guy fucking forever to leave, and then Sam locks the door behind him. Dean lies, slumped over the wedge. There’s an attitude to the set of his shoulders that spells resignation, and Sam likes it. He isn’t sure why, but examining that would take a shrink and too much time. He doesn’t care. His cock throbs painfully.

 

Sam climbs up onto the bed behind Dean. His ass is a mess, red and puffy, fucked out from a whole night of men taking him. He’s covered in come, striped over his back, his thighs. It’s dripping out of his ass, it’s dried on the wedge and the blanket underneath. Sam can see now that there’s a spreader bar attached to both of Dean’s ankles, keeping him wide open, making it so he can’t walk or close his thighs.  Sam strokes himself, running his hands over  Dean’s ass, feeling the skin flinch at his touch. He smacks one of Dean’s ass cheeks, and gets a low groan for it. He forces his hand underneath Dean to feel his cock, and a cock ring keeping him rigidly hard. It has an easy snap to open it, so he does. Dean sighs quietly, moving his hips to rub his cock against the fabric of the wedge. Fuck, Sam wants him to come almost as badly as he wants to come himself. He climbs back up behind Dean, and Dean stills. Waiting.

 

The head of his cock pushes into Dean’s fucked out ass, slipping in so easily. Sam licks his lips and then slides in balls deep with one long movement. He stays there for a second, relishing the hot, slippery tightness of Dean’s ass, and then he starts to fuck his brother. 

 

He doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t want to be gentle. He can hear Dean grunting as the pounding rubs his cock raw against the wedge. Sam doesn’t know how consentual this was, but he just doesn’t care, taking his pleasure, running his hands over the restraints keeping his brother from leaving, from moving. He pulls on the harness, hoisting Dean up, and then unbuckles the straps holding the gag in place. Then he pulls more, bringing Dean’s back flush with his chest, fucking up into him. 

 

He’s going to come, fuck, he’s going to come soon. Sam wraps his arms around Dean, and bites his shoulder hard, getting a shout, and then harder. Dean screams, and Sam tastes blood. Just as he comes, he yanks the headphones off his brother. 

 

“Fuck, yes, Dean,” He whispers into Dean’s ear, coming so hard he sees stars, holding him fast so he can’t move.  The miserable groan when Dean recognizes Sam’s voice makes it that much better, coming and coming, filling his brother’s ass. 

 

While he’s still nestled there, he reaches around and jacks Dean’s cock, ignoring it while he says, “no, Sammy, stop,” Ignoring the wail of despair as Dean comes in jets, all over his stomach and Sam’s hand. 

 

Sam pushes him back over the wedge and watches him struggle in his bonds, unable to get out, begging his brother to set him free. His eyes catch on the Impala keys. No… no he doesn’t think he’s going to let his brother go just yet.

  
  


When John comes home the next morning, Dean, the money and all the equipment is gone. There is only a note in Sam’s careful handwriting that says, “He’s mine now.” 


End file.
